


The One with the Spies

by 0fficiallyLeah



Series: A.V.E.N.G.E.R.S + [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Budapest, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, He made a different call, Pining, Spies, Spies & Secret Agents, Then and Now, implied reference to - The One with the Curse, unconventional fluff, undercover op
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0fficiallyLeah/pseuds/0fficiallyLeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, Nat. How's it going?" He gets two steps away from the bed before she tackles him to the ground.</p><p>"You don't call. You don't write." She responds with a sickly sweet tone and a twisted smile, "Darling."</p><p> </p><p>Or: How Clint remembers Budapest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One with the Spies

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing Clintasha  
> feed back would be appreciated
> 
> no beta  
> please forgive mistakes
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own the Avengers. Obviously

Clint Barton has been in love with Natasha Romanov since the day he saw her in his crosshairs.

That's why he made a different call.

After she defected to the US and started working for S.H.E.I.L.D, it became a delicate balance. Natasha didn't exactly do partners, prefering to get in and get out and work on her own terms. However, that was exactly what Fury wanted to avoid. In the beginning, it was more group covert missions that she was allowed to join. Hawkeye was always included. She only trusted him as far she could throw him, but still trusted him above all else. Other agents began to notice how well they worked together. It was a natural synchronisation that led to a natural progression.

It wasn't long before the groups became smaller until finally both Hawkeye and the Black Widow were called in for a special assignment. They were doing an undercover op. One that would be longer than anything they had been doing. Fury instructed that they were to act as boyfriend and girlfriend and they would be living in Budapest for a few months at least. The idea left a bad taste in Clint's mouth. He didn't want to have to pretend to love her, mainly because he had spent the last two years trying to be unsuspecting, and because the blending of the two sides, business and fantasy, would be undoubtably a bad plan.

Natasha got a job working on the inside close to the intended target and the information they were suppose to gather. Clint was working as a journalist from home. He was the cover. They had moved because of his job, so she had to find a new one. 'Something that actually provided money'. She worked her charm and skill at appearing innocent, while Clint stayed home and made dinner. Things were easy, like they usually were, when he was workig with Natasha. They quickly found their pattern and soon their own spy code fell into place. Every agent had key words or catch phrases that they used to notify other people of whatever, and they quickly found theirs.

If either of them thought the apartment was bugged, they conversed in sign language while rambling outloud about trivial things - like the weather or Clint's homemade lasagna.

If they felt like someone was trailing them while they were walking to and from places, they would hook arms with the other and give it a squeeze.

They had codes that involved whistling showtunes. And even ones involving pet names - Snook-ems makes his blood run cold.

It was actually enjoyable being a spy with someone like Natasha and the more he was around her the more he was able to read her. He used to think he had a sixth sense about reading people, but for every new thing he discovered, she discovered six about him. One night, towards the end of their fourth month in the tiny apartment in Budapest, while sharing a bottle of whine with a girl beyond comparison, she admited something. And it broke his heart.

Natasha admited she didn't believe in true love or soulmates, sometimes she even doubts in the idea of love its self. 'There's greed and lust and things alike that disguise themselves as love.' And then she looks him square in the eyes, not one trace of being anything but sober in her stare and she tells him, 'The red room implanted a trigger. A code for if I have been compromised and I need to be taken out. It's 'Я люблю тебя'. I need to know that if it ever comes down to it you'll use it. I need to know that I can trust you to follow through and do what's best for everyone. If I hear you say that I won't fight you. I won't be able too. They are the only words in the universe that still hold power over me.' And then she rose and left to go to her room. 

That was seven years ago. The mission had been a success, a tad bit messy but a win all the same. Natasha remembered it for the epic fight, the rounds of amo used and the sound of bullets rechotchetting and the adrenaline pumping. Clint remembers it for the day he found out that the girl of his dreams was broken, but it only made him love her more.

Since then, things began to stay the same. More ops, more undercover, just the two of them - they've played every role in the book. And somewhere along the way Barton and Romanov became a packaged deal. Not just spies, but partners. Still there were always odd jobs they were assigned to individually and it should have probably bothered him more than it did, but how could it? She was a master assissin, skills par to none, she could handle herself better than anyone (certainly better than himself), and it was just a part of their lives. He accepted it, and he thought she did too. 

That is until he gets back to the tower. He had been called on a mission in the middle of the night and had been gone for close to two months. Coulson hadn't let him even take his toothbrush, let alone tell anyone he was leaving. He had just assumed everyone had been notified. However, finding a sleeping Natasha curled up in his bed when he returns makes it seem extremely unlikely. Had he been expecting to find her there we wouldn't have turned on the light and dumped his quiver on the bed, on her. He probably would have backed out slowly all the way out of the tower and called her instead. He didn't even have time to hide before her eyes snap open and locate him.

"Hey, Nat. How's it going?" He gets two steps away from the bed before she tackles him to the ground.

"You don't call. You don't write." She responds with a sickly sweet tone and a twisted smile, "Darling."

"Natasha Romanov! We are not on a mission, you are not allowed to shoot me!" She returns to her usual stoic look, but raises one eyebrow in challenge. "I mean, you know, I'd preferred you didn't, at least nowhere lethal?" He trails off.

"Where the hell were you, Barton? I called your 3 burner cells, which are all in the drawer in the kitchen by the way, I even called Fury and Coulson and they are both on my list now." She sat squarely on his chest with her arms crossed.

"Don't do that, you know it secretly gives Coulson ulcers." 

"Stop being a pansy and answer the damn question." She snaps. 

He could always tell to a degree what she was feeling without her saying anything, but within the last few months it hadn't become unusual for her to openly show and talk about her emotion. Up until now it had been nice. Up until now it had been about how much she loved his homemade banana pudding or hated playing mario cart with him but would tolerate it if no one else wanted too. Up until now it hadn't envolved the sinking feeling in his chest or the look of fear he sees in her eyes. 

The word classified leaves his head.

"Monte Carlo. Undercover op. Had to join a traveling show - a lone act. Our intel showed that they had plans to take out a dignitary and his family. Turned out one target was actually a web of important people and anyone who got in the way and I had to take them all down before they could. It took longer than it should have. I'm sorry."

She falls off him. Choosing instead to curl up beside him. He wraps an arm around her as her tiny hands grip his shirt. He presses a kiss to her forehead and waits.

"I hate it when you're gone and I don't know where you are and I can't reach you. And I could have every assassin pointing a gun at me and it wouldn't compare to the fear I feel when I think about you never coming back." She moves her head from his arm to over his heart and threads one hand with his. "I used to be able to keep it all inside a box, but then I had to open it and I can't seem to get the damn lid back on. If you tell another soul about this, I'll deny it 'til my dying breath, but I think. I think somewhere along the way I stopped pretending I was in love with you." 

His heart stutters and then speeds up. He's sure she hears it. He can't keep the smile off his face, but then again he doesn't really want to. Instead he shifts her, moves her head gently to the crook of his arm, sweeps the hair out of her face, lets her discover every ounce of love pouring out of him, and then finally, finally, kisses her.

Later he won't say it. Still can't dream of making her feel so vulnerable, but as they lay tangled together in his bed, he'll find her hand and fold it to fit the words he can't ever tell her, but she'll know, of course she'll know - he loves her.

**Author's Note:**

> Я люблю тебя - I love you


End file.
